I have done a real Injustice.

The only Thing which an honest Man ought to be more asham'd of
than his faults, is a Reluctance against confessing them. I have
already acknowledg'd mine to yourself: But no publick Guilt is
well aton'd, by a private Satisfaction; I therefore send you a
Duplicate of my Letter, by way of the World, that all, who
remember my Offence, may also witness my Repentance.

Sir,

I am under the greatest Confusion I ever felt in my Life, to
find by your Letter, that I have been guilty of a Crime, which
I can never forgive Myself, were it for no other Reason, than
that You have forgiven it. I might have learnt from your
Writings the Extent of your Soul, and shou'd have concluded it
impossible for the Author of those elevated Sentiments, to sink
beneath them in his Practice.

You are generously moderate, when you mitigate my Guilt, and
miscall it a Credulity; 'twas a passionate, and most
unjustifiable Levity, and must still have remain'd
unpardonable, whatever Truth might have been found in its
mistaken Occasion.

What stings me most, in my Reflection on this Folly, is, that
I know not how to atone it; I will endeavour it, however;
being always asham'd, when I have attempted to revenge an
Injury, but never more proud, than when I have begg'd pardon
for an Error.

If you needed an Inducement to the strengthening your
Forgiveness, you might gather it from these two
Considerations; First, The Crime was almost a Sin against
Conviction; for though not happy enough to know you
personally, your Mind had been my intimate Acquaintance, and
regarded with a kind of partial Tenderness, that made it
little less than Miracle, that I attempted to offend you. A
sudden Warmth, to which, by Nature, I am much too liable,
transported me to a Condition, I shall best describe in
Shakespear's Sense, somewhere or other.

Blind in th' obscuring Mist of heedless Rage,
I've rashly shot my Arrows o'er a House,
And hurt my Brother....

A Second Consideration is, the Occasion you have gather'd to
punish my Injustice, with more than double Sharpness, by your
Manner of receiving it. The Armour of your Mind is temper'd so
divinely, that my mere Human Weapons have not only fail'd to
pierce, but broke to pieces in rebounding. You meet Assaults,
like some expert Arabian, who, declining any Use of his own